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The sunny side of the sea shore, With stones and sand and spray, Changes ever constant With every passing day. The rock pools always different, The dunes, like mountains tall, Reduced by rolling tidal sway To plains and valleys small. Each dawn, the waves of grey or blue, Oft topped with crest of white, At evening time. a flat mill pond, Reflecting stars bright light. The yellow desert of the sand Is purged by salty milk, To leave behind a tapestry Of natures finest silk For breeze to paint a picture, To dry, and then to weave A masterpiece in subtle shapes, Before those rollers heave. |